


The Kraken & the Little Bird

by juliannakatharina



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Arranged Marriage, Babies, F/M, Fluff, Friendship/Love, Marriage, Married Couple
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-12-18
Updated: 2015-07-28
Packaged: 2018-03-02 03:53:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 13,568
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2798588
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/juliannakatharina/pseuds/juliannakatharina
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>If Theon rescued Sansa from King's Landing with the promise of marrying her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. stealing a little bird

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this a "what if" to chapter 5 of my other fanfic, A Little Rose with Steel Thorns (the Olenna POV). I am not sure whether I'll make any forthcoming one shots/chapters connect with this or not.

Theon was terribly annoyed with Lady Olenna. He was tasked with getting Lady Sansa out of King’s Landing, yet he was sitting around having a picnic. A picnic he was not allowed to drink at as Lady Olenna condescendingly said he needed to keep what little wits he had focused. He hadn’t even stopped by one of the brothels.

“Oh stop your grumbling, Greyjoy. How exactly were you going to get Lady Sansa out? Scale the walls and climb through her window? Then what?” Theon scowled. _I don’t know. But I know this is not the Old Way._ “We’ll let him do the dirty work for us then you will do your part.”

“And who is this man doing the dirty work of getting Sansa out of the Red Keep.”

“Lord Petyr Baelish.” Her tone suggested she found Baelish both repulsive and beneath her. “Keep her far far away from him. He’s a little too fond of her. She looks like her lady mother doesn’t she?”

“Aye, she takes after Lady Stark. If you believe she isn’t safe near him, then why are you allowing Baelish to get her out? Robb promised her to me and I promised I would bring her home.” 

“I had no intention of allowing him to take Lady Sansa anywhere. That’s where you come in with your ship. You’ll get your heroic moment and your maiden bride to be. Now hush boy, rich food and wine call for a nap at my age. Oh and don’t dawdle the _distraction_ won’t last long.” That left him with her dim-witted red haired guards she had introduced as Left and Right.

“So are we crashing the name day celebrations?” The twins gave each other a look.

“No, we are staying right here to guard her ladyship,” retorted one who could be Left but Theon wasn’t sure if she meant her left or his.

“You are going to kill the fat drunk and get the Lady Sansa to your ship,” said the other. Theon’s smile froze and he laughed awkwardly.

“How am I to know where they’ll be?” The twins suddenly decided to be mute. Theon glanced annoyed at the carriage where Olenna was supposedly snoozing before picking up the cloak he was given as a part of his disguise. _What have I gotten myself into?_

Theon rowed himself to King’s Landing debating whether to just row back to his ship and forget this whole scheme. But instead he hid the boat and oars in some brush once he hit land. He climbed up rocky ridge and over a grey stonewall. He tried to blend into the crowds of people in King’s Landing.

“Where can I get a girl or two and some ale?” he spoke gruffly to a random man who looked at him curiously. The man pointed him in the direction of a place called Chataya’s, which was too damn far from the harbor or the Red Keep. The man also suggested some establishments closer to the Red Keep. Theon walked swiftly in the direction of the Red Keep. His nerve failed him when he recognized one of the guards that accompanied the King and the royal family to Winterfell at the gates of the keep. So he circled around the keep, hiding in the shadows of the narrow uneven streets. He felt like hours had past, which made him twitch with unease.

_Hopefully there's somewhere I could easily climb._

Normally, he would shrug off any responsibility if he was unsuccessful. But it was harder to shrug off potentially handing his closest friend’s (practically a brother to him) sister’s fate to some obsessed man or letting her remain in amongst the Lannisters. Robb would be disappointed if he came back without Sansa. Lady Stark had died and Robb was well grieving...

_Robb is lucky to be alive._

_We are all lucky to be alive._

His mind drifted to the dead men he had fought along side and the terrible music. Theon shook his head. _Focus and find Sansa._ The poor girl didn’t need to be lured by some creep. Theon was not the honorable type like the Starks but he believed he had some basic decency. He nicked an apple on his way from man carrying a basket of assorted fruits. He took out a dagger to cut out the bad parts and ate as he walked around. He made it to a grey shadowy unpopulated road praying that Sansa would be easy to find. Not getting caught was also high on his list of priorities. Theon could hear beckoning girls entering an establishment from a street over. _Maybe I have time for…_

But two shadows fluttered by with such urgency not noticing him. Theon dropped the apple and followed them walking extremely fast.

“Hurry, sweet lady. Before they realize you have gone.” _Kill him quickly. The less noise the better._ Theon followed them as they ran zigzagged through the cobbled alleys and lanes.

“Sansa!” hissed Theon loud enough she would hear him. The girl with a dark hood stopped and looked back. Her Tully blue eyes widened and lighted with recognition. The man stared at Theon and tried to tug her along. “Please, don’t scream.”

“Theon! Is Robb here? Ser Dontos, it’s alright he’s my friend.” Theon stabbed the man before he unsheathed his sword. Theon then slit the man’s throat before he could utter a sound. Sansa made a yelp of surprise and horror.

“Theon, he was my-“ Theon pressed two fingers on her lips, glanced in either direction then dragged her away. They stopped when Sansa almost dropped the giant greatsword.

_Must I smuggle the most conspicuous girl and item? Couldn’t have Mallister done this and I went to Pyke to treat with my lord father?_

“Trust me, Sansa. His kindness was bought. I gather you weren’t going to Winterfell or Riverrun with him. Hand me that. I’ll carry it.” _I was ordered to get you with the incentive of your hand in marriage. But you don’t need to know that until we are safe on a ship._ Sansa nodded and breathed heavily with an edge of panic.

“We have to hurry, Theon. Joffrey has been poisoned. When they notice me gone, they’ll think I had something to do with it.” _That was the distraction._ Theon smiled and took her pale hand in his. He would have chortled that the golden git was dead but that could wait. _It complicates things and at the same time helps._

“Keep your hood up.” Theon and Sansa raced down the hill. The harbor was no longer safe that would be where the guards would look first. So he sought to retrace his steps and find his rowboat or steal one of the small rowboats the poor fishermen used. There was tightness in his chest, as he had no other plans to get them to his awaiting ship. He saw the random man from earlier in the same spot drinking.

“Got her from one o’ the master of coin’s brothels?” _If you stretch the truth far enough. Sure._

“Nah, she’s my darlin’ wife.” Sansa hugged Theon from the side and facing his chest to hide her face. Thankfully, the man merely just nodded and belched. As they turned the corner and they broke out into a run to the grey stonewall. Theon lifted Sansa over the wall and handed her the sword before leaping over it himself.

“Almost there,” cheered Theon as they raced down and almost stumbled. He dragged the rowboat into the water. Sansa grabbed the oars. “Let’s hope this doesn’t sink because your lord father’s sword.”

“Where’s your ship?” asked Sansa as he rowed them away. He nudged his head to his left. “I don’t see it.”

“I couldn’t anchor it somewhere easily visible.” Sansa nodded and secured her hood. “Robb sent me to get you. Margaery’s grandmother, Lady Olenna gave me a ship to take you home. It’s a nice ship.”

“They told me he and my lady mother had died at the Twins. They called it the Red Wedding.”

“Robb’s alive and so is his wife, your uncle, and most of the northern men. Lady Stark, I’m sorry to say—“ Sansa let out a sob. He watched her cry as he rowed, which was a long time. Sansa wiped away her tears and gave him a smile,

“Thank you for saving me.” He smiled back in return. “It’s so lovely to see a familiar face.”

* * *

 Sansa averted her eyes shyly as Theon removed his shirt. It wasn’t as if she hadn’t seen him in various states of undress in their shared cabin arrangement before. _We have kissed in a manner that was wholly inappropriate for an unmarried highborn lady._ But she told herself and Theon that it did not matter as they were to be married anyway. She was still a virgin, which was what mattered. Sharing a bed out of necessity and for her safety had helped Sansa rethink her previous opinion about Theon and made her more receptive to marrying him. 

She had not wanted to speak of King’s Landing to him at first, when he first asked about it. Theon instead had told her a story from his nine years of life at his home in the Iron Islands before he became a ward of her lord father’s. 

            _“Did you feel trapped like a prisoner like—“ How the Lannisters kept me. Do you still feel like a hostage? She heard him sigh in the darkness._

 _“Yes and no. Sometimes, however rarely, I didn’t feel like an outsider amongst your family. But I never did get the approval I wanted. It's better now with Robb as King, no offence.” He had said no more about the subject. Sansa reached out and held his hand._

_“You have Robb’s and mine,” she whispered softly. She sense he had turned his head to face her but remained silent.“Goodnight, Theon.”_

_“Sweet dreams, Sansa.”_

Theon laughed at her shyness, which made her flush even more. She was embarrassed by how young and naïve she still was. She looked more matured than most girls her age so she didn’t look like a child next to Theon, thankfully. 

“You are fairly decent at manning the steering wheel,” complimented Theon. “The crew is worried, I won’t need them anymore. That’ll be just you and I sailing this ship.” She looked at him in the eyes and smiled at the compliment. 

“Then they should be on their best form.” Theon laughed and uncorked a bottle of amber liquid and took a swig. 

“Now, now Stark. Let’s not go all blood thirsty pirate captain.” _I’d only threaten the cook’s daughter with the plank._

* * *

Sansa had ventured to the galley to find the crew supping and talking loudly. Theon was sitting at the front of the long table with the older girl on his lap. Sansa had felt angry and a strange feeling in her stomach. Which she did not understand, as she did not like him as anything more than just a friend. He was the first friendly face she had seen since her father had died. Sansa mulled the idea of being friends with Theon Greyjoy. He had been Robb's friend and her father's ward, but they hadn't been close enough to be friends. Yet after a week since her escape from King's Landing and after being friendless for so long. Sansa began to see him as a friend.

_A friend who holds my hand to help to me sleep at night._

_A friend who no longer seemed to see me as a silly weak little girl anymore and didn't make japes about my (deluded) fancy of a boy who turned out to be a cruel monster._

Perhaps he never thought badly of her but she didn't know for sure for she never asked and he never spoke of it. Theon seemed changed too and grimaced a little more than he smiled. His eyes always darted to his feet as they broached the horrific subject of the Red Wedding. How his hands twitched when Sansa asked about what happened to Sansa's mother's murder.

_A friend who confides to me in his own way. I told him all the horrible guilt I harbored and of my humiliation and abuse at Joffrey’s behest._

Sansa felt her eyes avert with disappointment. His laughter turned to Joffrey's in her mind and she crossed her arms over her chest. Theon must be laughing at her after she had let herself to trust enough to confide to him. He was probably laughing about her to that girl like he did when he had teased Jon and Arya in the past. Theon noticed her standing in the doorway looking vulnerable and hurt before she turned away. The cook’s daughter was unkindly shoved off and Theon walked towards Sansa with a bottle in hand. 

“You were sleeping, when I came in to check on you. Are you alright? Nobody went into our cabin did they—“ His face went dark and dangerous as he took note of her traitorous watery eyes. Sansa shook her head no and gave a weak yet reassuring smile. 

“I’m fine. I came below because I’m a bit hungry.” _I woke up from a nightmare and I was alone._ Theon nodded slowly and offered her his arm. 

“Here or a tray in the cabin, love.” She remembered haughtily telling Theon off to not call her love as she wasn’t his love nor was he hers. But he had smirked and hadn’t stopped much to her chagrin. Now she fought to not blush beet red when he said it. She wanted to say that she would eat amongst the rough speaking crew to show they did not frighten her. However, she came down here only wanting Theon’s company.

“I would prefer to dine in the cabin,” she answered. Theon barked for a tray of supper and drink to be sent to their cabin. 

“You are going to get cabin fever one of these days,” he warned as they walked up to the deck arm in arm.  

“I go out on deck with you during the day,” argued Sansa but she looked up at Theon to see he had only been teasing her. 


	2. sansa's doll

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First bit-goes with the first chapter
> 
> second bit-jumps 9-10 years.

Theon was out and about ordering the men on deck. He took a breath in and basked in the old familiar smell of the salty sea. He opened his eyes and noticed Sansa was outside the cabin by the bow of the ship. She stood staring out at the open sea. He slowly approached her from behind. As he got closer he realized she was crying. He stood there unsure whether she wanted to be left alone or not. Sansa seemed to have noticed his presence and she choked out pained words,

“I been thinking- I should have never—we would’ve gotten out. They wouldn’t have died. If I had known I would have never went and told her of Father’s plans. I could have saved some of them.” She hugged something against her chest. _A doll._ Theon nodded in recognition. The doll had been hidden in her cloak in their escape from King’s Landing. The drunk had somehow gotten it out of her chamber or maybe Sansa liked to keep it close with her at all times hidden in her skirts. “Why didn’t I realize it?” Robb had said something similar too after no one found Lady Stark’s body. 

_"Mother told me not to trust the Freys," whispered Robb hoarsely from his crying._

“It wasn’t your fault,” he insisted more than twice now to two auburn haired Starks. He had whispered it to her when she woke crying and screaming for her father.

_‘Forgive me, Father!’_

_You were eleven, for fuck’s sake._ Theon didn’t know the situation but he surmised that Ned Stark had more enemies surrounding him posing as friends. Like the Red Wedding. He stared at her sadly taking note of the contrast in the innocence of the doll and the lack of it in Sansa’s eyes, when she turned her head slightly at him. It made him uncomfortable.

“May I?” he asked gesturing to put his arms around her. She nodded allowing him to hug her from behind. They stared out at the sea in silence. Her crying had slowed down a smidge.

“Do you blame Robb for your lady mother’s death?”

“No, of course not,” she replied seriously between sobs.

“And neither do they blame you.” He could speak for Robb and the boys at least. And Lady Stark as well, all she had wanted was to have her daughters back and to have all five of her children safe. Sansa leaned back into him as she calmed.

“Does she have a name?” He looked down on the straw doll with a pink and pale purple dress.

“Lady.” He had expected her to say her lady mother's name. 

“That’s a good name.”

* * *

“Don’t touch that Aerinne!” scolded dark haired Alayne grabbing her baby sister’s hand away from the doll. “That’s Mother’s doll. It’s precious and we aren’t allowed to play with it.” Aerinne stared longingly at the doll and started well up. 

“I want doll,” demanded Aerinne pointing at it as their father came in, as he had heard the crying and the shouting. 

“I told her she isn’t allowed to play with it,” informed Alayne primly. 

“No Aerinne, you and Alayne have many dolls to play with.” Aerinne started to cry in petulant disappointment that her father uncharacteristically did not grant her every wish. 

“Please Fatha’,” whined Aerinne pleading with her big blue eyes that she and her elder siblings had inherited from Sansa. Theon chuckled. 

“No, but you may ask your Mother if you may hold it gently.” Aerinne stared back at the doll and made a face as if she wasn’t sure of her father’s tradeoff. 

“Fine,” huffed Aerinne. “Play dolls with us.” Theon’s eyes widened and he laughed lightly. Alayne giggled in a cute yet devilishly manner. 

__Couldn't you ask me play sea monster or go exploring on the rocks today?_   _

“Yes, play with us, Father. It will be so merry.” Theon kissed both Aerinne and Alayne’s cheeks causing them to squeal at his scratchy beard. 

“I’m terribly sorry, I have important duties to attend. It sounds like—fun though.” 

“Let’s go find Dagon, we’ll make him play with us.” Theon grimaced. 

“Dagon play with us!” shrilled Aerinne with delight jumping up and down. Alayne smirked with glee and held Aerinne’s hand as they scampered off to torture their nine year-old brother with the convoluted world of their dolls. 

Theon laughed and hoped for his son’s sake that the baby Sansa was carrying would be a boy. Or that Winterfell magically was located closer to the Iron Islands so Dagon could play with his cousins Eddard and Artos. The girls could play dolls with their cousin Elora. 

“What important duties do you have attend to right now?” asked laughing voice. Sansa was in the doorway smiling with folded arms resting on her stomach. 

“The thing with Lordsport wanting—it’s very complex and mundane I nod off just thinking about it.” Sansa raised an eyebrow in disbelief.  

“Pity, I quite enjoy hearing you voice Theonora.” Theon scowled internally cursing Asha to all the hells for giving Alayne the idea to name her dark haired doll after him. Sansa burst out laughing. 

“Please may we never allow Alayne or my sister name this baby and any future ones.” Sansa giggled and hugged him. 

“Agreed. Why were you all in my solar anyway?” Theon nudged his head in the direction of the doll. Sansa stared at her doll. 

“Aerinne wanted to play with it. I told her she couldn’t play with it but not why as I figured you wanted to tell her about your parents.” Sansa sighed and nodded. Theon fiddled with Sansa’s fishtail braid as he watched several emotions flicker on her face as she tried not to cry. 

“I will in a year from now. She’s just turned three, two moons ago. I told her about Lady and she didn’t quite understand when I told her Lady was dead, but that we could visit her grave one day.” Theon kissed his wife gently and held her. It was silent with the sound of the gulls and the water until they could hear the hollering of Dagon. _Trying to flee from his sisters no doubt._

“Don't lie, you _both_ secretly enjoy playing dolls with them.” 

“I don’t, when Asha’s home. Can I banish her on the grounds that she mocks me?”


	3. kiss me

The ritual of tentative shy kisses before they both fell asleep in their shared cabin. It had started when Sansa gave Theon a chaste kiss on the cheek good night then one day Theon turned his head and Sansa kissed his lips instead. They were a day or two away from White Harbour. She lay on her back with Theon kissing every inch of exposed porcelain white skin. It was a bit intense how rapidly they took to one another. His lips travelled back to her mouth. Sansa tried not to make a little moan or sigh as Theon always had to stop kissing her and walk away. _We have to do some things properly, love._ They broke apart for moment.

“I’m going to miss you, once we make it to White Harbor.” Theon smiled and laughed.

“I am going with you, remember. Unless your plan is to leave me at port.” Sansa smiled and sighed.

“I know. What I meant is that I am going to miss this,” whispered Sansa as she placed his arm around her waist and she leant in for a kiss.

“Ah,” nodded Theon as if he had forgotten their sleeping arrangements would have to change until their wedding night. He ran a hand through his brown hair and shrugged, “We’ll be married soon enough. Then maybe one day we’ll get properly married in eyes of the Drowned God whenever we go back to my home.” There was some bitterness and longing in his voice. Sansa put a hand on his cheek gently.

“When you told me that Robb had given you permission to marry me. I thought we were going to be married here on the ship.”

“Here?” He gestured to the unmade bed they were laying in a teasing manner. “I suppose it’s an efficient spot.” Sansa blushed at the innuendo and how his sea-green eyes darkened to almost black. She had been worrying that their wedding would make Robb uncomfortable as he was likely turned off by weddings but did not mention it to Theon. Sansa was both excited and nervous whenever he looked at her like that but to her dismay and relief, he only tucked the blankets around her and whispered, “Go to sleep, Sansa.” Theon grumpily had wake up early drunk or not as he was the captain.

* * *

 

Theon jerked up awake into a sitting position when he heard the bell and members of the crew shouting. Loud groans of the waves hitting the side of the ship vibrated. _We had done so well to avoid storms._ Theon scrambled out of bed to put on his boots and long black jacket. He heard Sansa stir.

“What’s happening?” asked Sansa from behind. He felt one of her small pale hands touch his shoulder.

“We sailed into a storm,” he answered grimly. The rain was pouring hard on the glass windows.

“What can I do?” Theon stood up and walked to her side of the bed. He leant down and kissed her hard. He could hear Old Tom knocking on the door urgently.

“Stay here, love. You may look like mermaid but I’d rather not see you go overboard. Stay inside the cabin.” Theon stroded out of the cabin and closed the door behind him. He started barking orders at two young sailors who looked terrified. _Their first storm._ Theon ran up the steps to take over manning the wheel from Will. He had been out there for less than five minutes and he was soaked. Theon shouted but he wondered if he could be heard over the thunderous rain. He grimaced with effort to steer them out of the storm. Old Tom and the others were scrambling to maintain control of the lower deck and not get swept overboard. Theon was focused turning the ship away from the thunder and lightening ahead.

“Yer lady is on deck,” yelled Old Tom. Theon almost let go of the wheel as he spotted her bright red hair and cream-colored nightgown. _You were supposed to stay inside the cabin._ Sansa almost slipped as she walked up the steps to him. Her hair darkened with the rain and her night shift was clinging to her and was not opaque due to the thinness of the material. He bit his lip from shouting like a reproving septa clucking at her for not donning one of his cloaks. He wanted to shake her and kiss her all at the same time. _If she dies…well Robb will be crushed._

“Get back in the cabin Sansa!” he shouted harshly. “You’ll catch a chill. Or—“ _I’ll jump into the sea if you fall in._ She didn’t hear him or simply didn’t listen as she tried to run to him but the rockiness of the ship threw her off balance. He tensed but she got up and reached him thankfully. He kissed her soaked hair in relief as she grabbed his waist. Her blue eyes looked up him.

“I couldn’t—“

“Hold on to me or the wheel,” barked Theon wrenching his eyes from her face and her chest. Sansa put her hands over his own that were tightly gripping the wheel from spinning on it’s own accord.

“I thought there was only storms like this in the Stormlands,” cried Sansa. Theon smiled at her naiveté.  _I wish._  

* * *

 

Sansa shrank slightly as Theon entered their cabin after he went to reassess the damages left by the storm. His dark eyes were angry and he wasn’t smiling at her. Sansa had waited for him by laying out some dry clothes and put the upturned furniture and fallen objects back in their proper place.

“That was foolish of you. Did you not hear those men who fell overboard?” She looked away feeling chastised.

“I wanted to make sure you weren’t one of them.” He said nothing in response.

“Take that gown off,” sighed Theon. She blinked in surprise and remembered she was still in her drenched nightgown. He wasn’t smiling but his eyes and jawline were less severe. Sansa removed her nightgown with some difficulty as it was plastered to her skin. She turned see Theon facing away from her starting to undress himself. Sansa grabbed his billowy black shirt she had laid out on the bed and slipped it over herself. After donning on some smallclothes, she sat in the middle of the bed. She tried to keep her eyes on her hands but she glanced curiously at her betrothed’s naked form particularly his backside. He was tall and lean muscled. He was pale though it may be because he had lived in the north for many years. She kept her eyes on him from the waist up when he turned to pull on the trousers. Theon made a noise when he saw her in his shirt. His eyes flickering over her long bare legs made her feel warm in her stomach.

“I’m sorry that I worried you,” she apologized softly.

“Well Robb would have killed me if I let you die on my watch,” he chastised, whilst staring at the space over her head looking uncomfortable. “Let’s hope you don’t get ill.” He blew out his candle, lay down on his side of the bed and pulled the blankets up over him. “Never taking you out to sea again. I now understand why some men think it’s unlucky to bring a woman aboard.” Sansa knew his tone was light but nevertheless his words stung.

“Maybe, you won’t ever have to again. I might marry Willas Tyrell or someone else like—Lord Umber’s son Smalljon instead." Theon snorted. Sansa insisted, "Margaery’s brother sent me a necklace.” She was given a necklace but not from the heir of Highgarden.

“Why would another marriage between the Starks and the Tyrells be necessary?” scoffed Theon now looking at Sansa. Sansa failed to think of an answer.

“I don’t know but maybe I’d rather marry someone else since I’m unfit for life at sea.” She lay back and dramatically tugged the blankets away from Theon. 

“What did the necklace look like?” asked Theon quietly. Unbeknownst to Sansa, Theon looked insecure and upset. She instead frowned as she thought of the jewelled trinket.

“It was green, made of emeralds I believe. I left it behind in King’s Landing though.”

“You never mentioned it before.” His voice was strange.

“I never had reason to," replied Sansa honestly. She was far away from King's Landing and the Lannisters, what did it matter that she left a gift behind? 

"Do you prefer Tyrell? I mean do you want the necklace back?" Theon's voice was softer and more raw. Sansa's heart pounded and she blinked and carefully chose her words,

"It clashed with my hair and eyes. Perhaps if I had green eyes like the Lannisters or brown hair like the Tyrells. I imagined- puppies-" Sansa was cut off by Theon.

"You’ll both live happily ever after like one of those songs,” snapped Theon. 

Sansa continued with annoyance, "And yes I had silly hopeful notions of maybe I could escape to Highgarden, but that never happened even after Robb married Margaery." Sansa rolled onto her back and looked at Theon. 

"You came.” He hugged her close and she nuzzled her head against his bare chest. He ran his fingers through her damp hair.  

"I'd die to get you back to Winterfell, Sansa," he declared as he kissed the top of her head. Sansa held on him tighter and shivered at the thought of him dying for her. 

“I know you would, but I would rather not lose my betrothed.” She felt him grin. She also felt him sniff her, which made her giggle softly.

“You smell like the sea,” he murmured. His eyes were beautiful like the sea and she felt a strange feeling in her belly. Making her wish that he gave up on being honorable just once more and ravished her like he was known to do with the women of the brothels. 

"You smell like home to me," she smiled as she thought of all the happy moments of her childhood at Winterfell.   

* * *

Lord Wyman Manderly’s granddaughters and Sansa walked around New Castle arm in arm. The Manderly girls were on either side of her.

“Oh, it must be dreadful to finally be free from the Lannisters but then to have to marry a Greyjoy,” exclaimed Lady Wylla, the younger of the two sisters.

“Sister! I apologize my princess. Lord Theon is quite handsome and _seems_ kind. It must be advantageous to know him so well—“

“Lord?” Sansa turned her head to the brown haired young woman.

“Oh we received news of Lord Balon’s death the day before you arrived. Lord Grandfather told Greyjoy of his lord father's passing the night you arrived,” answered Lady Wynafryd.

“Did he not tell you?” asked Lady Wylla in shock.  _No._ In fact she did not know where he was at the moment. Lady Wynafryd pinched her sister.

“Oh, yes he did. I forgot. I have had a lot to take in. I am having trouble getting use to being called princess,” Sansa lied airily. “And the excitement of seeing my brother the King.” Lady Wynafryd nodded. 

“Everyone is elated that you have returned to the North.”

“Thank you, Lady Wynafryd.” Sansa walked with them down a corridor leading to the stairwell to the guest chambers she and Theon were occupying. She excused herself from their company. As she climbed up the steps she heard Lady Wylla Manderly’s thin voice,

“Did you see the bruises on Princess Sansa’s neck?”

“Wylla, you shouldn’t remark on such things. You don’t know what awful things she must have endured at King’s Landing. Tis' a blessing from the Warrior to give Lord Greyjoy the gumption to brave King’s Landing alone to save her. You shouldn’t mock Lord Greyjoy, he is our guest and a loyal friend of our King.” Sansa couldn’t hear Wylla’s response. Sansa flushed, she had thought her long hair and the higher neckline gowns had covered the love marks.

* * *

Theon whistled as he strode along the corridor to the chamber he was given as guest.

“Where have you been?” called Sansa. He spun around and smiled at the sight of the pretty face he missed even for seven hours.

“Attending to business. Letters to Robb, my sister and making sure everything is ready for our journey to Winterfell. Miss me, love?” He touched her chin.

“Why didn’t you tell me your lord father died? I was worried that you might be distraught. Are you alright?” _Our fathers are not alike._

“He did not mourn me when I was taken away. Why would I mourn his death?” he spoke harshly, full of bitterness knowing what Balon thought of him from Mallister’s failed envoy. Sweet Sansa seemed taken aback.

“But you were his last son.” He smiled humorlessly.

“My lord father didn’t think much of his own lord father, if that makes it any more understandable.” She frowned sadly and hugged him.

“Lord Theon Greyjoy, Lord of the Iron Isles,” she tested out with the side of her face pressed against his jerkin. His place as an outsider was dissolving with Balon Greyjoy’s death and impending union with the pretty being in his arms. He wouldn’t have to choose between being a Greyjoy and wanting to be a Stark.

“Lady Sansa Greyjoy, Lady of the Iron Isles, Princess of Winterfell. My rock wife.” She beamed at him and kissed him hotly then drew back.

“Almost,” she called over her shoulder as she went into her chamber.


	4. wedded & bedded

The couple of premature lines on Robb’s face had surprised Sansa after the high of being reunited had slightly faded. She proudly smiled at how regal and handsome her brother was, especially with the Stark ancestral greatsword Ice in his possession. They both wept together with little Rickon over the loss of their parents and worried about Bran who had gone missing with Lord Howland Reed’s children.

“Are you angry with me?” asked Robb as they stood before the stone that marked Lady’s grave in the lichyard. Sansa bent down to place a blue winter rose on the stone with two tears running down her face. It was her second time visiting Lady’s grave. Sansa brushed the tears away and stared confusedly at her elder brother.

“What for?”

“About Theon. I am aware I didn’t ask about your feelings about it before I arranged it. I want you to be happy about it and not be something you’ll resent me for.” She would have frowned but she kept a sweet mask.  _It's a bit late for that, she thought sourly._ She imagined she should be grateful that she had not been promised to a Frey like her missing sister had been. Robb stared at her worriedly. “I believe he won’t take too much offence if you don’t want to go through it.” _He’ll feel rejected and slighted nevertheless but you wouldn’t see it behind his smile._ Anyhow she didn’t mind at all becoming Theon’s lady wife.

“I am looking forward to marrying Theon,” she answered honestly. Robb sighed in relief and smiled. They walked arm in arm through the courtyard and came across a pregnant Queen Margaery petting Grey Wind. Sansa liked Margaery instantly for she was so kind and gracious to Sansa. The petite brunette seemed to make her brother happy as well. She had heard from Theon that her brother the King in the North and his Queen had not gotten along at first. _Misunderstandings and pride._ Theon hadn’t elaborated any further. But Sansa had heard second hand snippets from the gossipy maids who got their information from the stablehands got their gossip from the squires who went south. The King had expected Lady Margaery Tyrell to be a dutiful sweet wife like the pretty and sweet lady he had met in the Westerlands. A woman who knew her place. Margaery clearly was sweet in disposition but there was a cunning manipulative side to her that was not going to be quelled by Robb Stark or by anyone.  _It's that cunning that kept you alive, brother don't you see? You would have died with Mother if you had broken your word to the Freys for any other lady._

Sansa watched her elder brother lean down to kiss his queen gently. She wondered to herself of how many years it would have taken the King and Queen in the North to begin to fall in love, if the Red Wedding had not taken place? Was it because Robb forgot about the pretty Westerland lady, when he realized he could have lost Margaery, and his unborn child? Or did he just think of his throne? Sansa remembered the bitter Queen Cersei and fat King Robert. Perhaps they never would have. Theon was as gossipy as a washerwoman yet he only shook his head and muttered,

 _“An avoided mistake that’s all.”_ When she asked about what happened in the Westerlands and the lady, Robb had held in high regard that it caused friction in his marriage and his relationship with their late lady mother. Sansa snapped from her thoughts as she heard the soprano laugh of her good sister.

“You are wearing my colours, Robb,” smiled Margaery stroking the green velvet with gold stitching of his doublet. “It brings out the red in your hair.”

Robb chuckled. “Stark grey becomes you as well.” Sansa smiled broadly as she watched them embrace. Neither remembered or noticed Sansa’s presence before she slipped away to find Theon.

* * *

 

Their wedding had been a small affair. It had not been the wedding she had dreamed of as a little girl. There were no musicians or singers and dancing, thank the Gods many whispered. Most of the guests seemed to be on edge to some degree. Robb had walked her and handed her over in place of Father. A maid had brushed her long hair the night and morning before the wedding instead of Mother. She was missing a sister and two brothers at her wedding feast. Even her half brother, Jon Snow had not come from Castle Black though she had invited him. She wondered if he had gone missing as well as their Uncle Benjen. Rickon had let Sansa cut his hair that was so overgrown and tangled for the wedding. It was not a wedding to be remembered for any spectacle of either the good or the bad sort. To be quite frank, in less than a decade neither Sansa or Theon could remember their wedding feast in great detail, when their children were old enough to ask about it. Both remembered the ceremony before the great heart tree in Winterfell’s godswood and the wedding night. There had been no bedding ceremony by the orders of Robb for Sansa’s sake.

Theon had no inhibition about his naked form as he stood in their chamber. Sansa flushing as she crossed her arms over her chest modestly with her smallclothes lying by her feet. She took a deep breath and lowered her arms and her gaze. He smiled as Sansa gawked at his manhood curiously. This time she had not looked away or closed her eyes. Sansa bit her lip trying to imagine how that was going to fit inside her. ‘Prim and proper lady’ Sansa reached out to touch him but stopped to ask _permission_.

“May I?” He nodded his assent with a surprised smile at her forwardness. A pale index finger brushed the length of it. Theon twitched with pain? “Does that hurt? I’m sorry.” She retracted her hand with wide eyes. Septa Mordane had told her immoral acts made by a proper highborn lady would upset the delicate ritual of providing an heir. But Theon said Septa Mordane was wrong that sex between a wife and husband did not have to be all about heirs and duty.

_"_ _What does a septa know about fucking?" mocked Theon derisively._

“No not at all, love.” Theon wrapped her arms around her grabbing her bottom. Her heart is pounding that they kissing and pressed against each other’s nude bodies. That they can kiss as freely as they want to now. Sansa lay down in the middle of the bed quite breathless from the kissing and the uncertain anticipation of what was to come next.

* * *

 

 _I have a beautiful wife._ He wasn’t the poetic sort. Theon surmises staring at his new wife that a Tully ancestor must have taken a mermaid as a wife or something. Not a freckle or a beauty mark. _Were there once lake mermaids and water nympths in Riverlands?_ She had good-sized bosoms for her age. Sansa even might have another year or two of growth left. Her blue eyes watching him shyly as he crawled on the bed till his face was above hers. “Comfy?” She nodded and wrapped her arms around him.

“What are you doing?” asked Sansa frowning as he drew his lips away from her pretty pink mouth and his roaming hands.

“Getting you wet, so this is a slightly less painful experience for you,” answered Theon airily. Sansa stiffened nervously at the mention of pain. “It won’t be so bad, love.” _Hopefully._

* * *

 

 _It had hurt. A lot more than Margaery had said it would._ She had tried her best not to make a sound of pain or let a tear fall. If it weren’t for the utter pain of losing her maidenhead, Sansa imagined she might have enjoyed it a lot more. Theon had apologized and asked her if she wished him to stop but she didn’t want him to, as this was their wedding night. She had to insist thrice that she was fine before he continued. _A stained sheet needs to be shown that Theon did not dishonor me, when he rescued me, she thought pragmatically._  Sansa also did not want Theon to stop moaning at how beautiful, perfect, (and another unintelligible proclamations) she was as he thrust into her and how husky his voice was when he said her name. 

_Maybe in the morn, before we break our fast we can make love again._

Theon brushed away a lock of hair from her face, “Are you in terrible pain still? I am so sorry. I did everything I could to make it better.” He still lay on top of her after he had collapsed on her after he had finished. Theon had been about to roll off her but she had held him. He was heavy but she _wanted_  him. He kissed her and murmured against her collarbone.

“The pain was…manageable. You were so sweet.” She was surprised at how much she pleasure she had experienced as he touched her with his fingers and his mouth. Theon gave her a lingering look before sitting up. “No, come back.” Sansa wanted his warm body cuddling her.

“We should wash.” Sansa stood up and walked after Theon, wincing. She could feel the semi-dried blood on her thighs. Theon poured some water on a linen cloth and wiped her maiden’s blood off his cock. She held her hand out to take the cloth from him to clean herself, but Theon instead squatted down and clean her himself.

“Thank you,” she said softly. It was cold standing in the chamber without a stitch on her; she could feel the goosebumps on her skin. Heat in her body return as she watched Theon wash her, reminding her of earlier when he had his dark head between her thighs. He was either taking his time cleaning her or she was going mad.

“I wonder what you would be like if I bathed you?” chuckled Theon looked up at Sansa’s darkened with desire eyes.

“I would have you in the tub with me,” answered Sansa without thinking. Theon laughed as he stood up.

“And what would be we doing, my lady wife?” She could feel his cock stirring against her lower abdomen. She bit her lip and chose her words slowly and carefully.

“A continuation of what we are doing in bed right now.” If an aroused Theon hadn’t lifted her up by her waist and wrapped her legs around him, she might have awkwardly blushed at how utterly terrible she was at talking filthy. 

* * *

 

“I would imagine Sansa is a faster learner than her elder brother,” remarked Margaery offhand after they bumped into each other and begun to walk around the castle. It had been awhile since Theon and Margaery spoke freely with one another. Theon would have sought Sansa for a little daytime tryst but she was spending time with Rickon. 

“Robb still a bumbling green boy?” Margaery shook her head no and gave a light little laugh. 

“No, he wasn't that awkward. I’m thankful that Robb knew what to do with me and actually wanted to bed me unlike Renly. I suppose I should _thank_ Lady Jeyne Westerling for providing him a smidge of experience.” Theon did not know what to say to the latter part. Margaery rested her hands over her pregnant stomach.

“She loves you. You are the unexpected handsome knight that saved her. She’s developed a notion that she won’t be enough for you.” Something in him felt like bursting at the idea of his pretty lady wife falling in love with him. But the last bit made Theon cocked his head questioningly. 

“Meaning?”

“She’s afraid, you’ll have a group of salt wives by time she’s eighteen or when she gets old and fat. I told her not to get upset every time you ride out to Wintertown with Robb.” Theon felt he had been punched. 

“We don’t go to the brothel in broad daylight or at all.” Margaery raised an eyebrow at his loud defensive tone. 

" _I_ know that _."_ They walked in silence as Theon tried to think how he could have given Sansa a reason to think he would run off to fuck another wench.  _My past behaviour prior journeying to King's Landing?_ He scowled. 

"Starks are quite jealous and they have a funny way of expressing it," noted Margaery. "I'm not sure either of them are completely thrilled that we are friendly." Theon nodded remembering the angry jealous look on Robb's face when he saw Margaery sitting with Theon as they talked quietly about being outsiders with the Starks and in the North.  _Answering her questions about Jeyne Westerling._

_"Seducing my wife? Seriously, Theon, there's got to be some wenches around following the soldiers. I'm not King Robert, I am not blind to not see what's going on." Theon laughed and shook his head, which made Robb even more infuriated._

_"No, unless talking about what a great person you are is a new art of seduction. If I was trying to seduce her I wouldn't be just talking to her. Really, you aren't like him? Well you are holding onto another girl, when you should be seducing your own wife. She's not a troll or look like a weasel like the one of the Freys you almost married." Robb had the grace to look shamefaced at the mention of Jeyne and his treatment of Margaery._

_"What do you tell her about me?"_

_"Why don't you ask her?"_

_"She says only what she thinks I want to hear."_

_"Your Queen finds you handsome and brave. But she wishes you warmed up to her like Grey Wind did. She talks to that wolf of yours." He gave Robb a pointed look._

"They can be very righteous at times," Theon agreed with a sigh. He wondered if Margaery ever knew that Robb listened to her talk about him and her early frustrations with their new marriage through Grey Wind. 

"Do you love her? It's clear you and Robb love each other like brothers." He knew he had grown extremely fond of Sansa and was physically attracted to her. Whether that fondness and attraction had transmuted to love, he did not know. Theon had never been in love before. 

"Do you love Robb?" countered Theon ignoring her question. Margaery gave him a thoughtful smile. 

"I think so? I was never taught to expect love. My best hope was a dutiful partnership. For all their flaws and supposed coldness, they are easy to love." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry if this one was a bit choppy or weird. I have been ill this whole month so that may reflected in this little chapter. 
> 
> leave me review! :) I have never done prompts before but if you have any Sansa x Theon ideas leave them in the comments below. I'll try my best! :)


	5. oh, jeyne poole

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Not a happy one. But it is short.

Sansa was terrified by Lord Roose Bolton's bastard, Ramsay Snow. Robb and Theon had joined Ser Rodrik Cassel in bringing the remaining Bolton men at the Dreadfort to justice for their betrayal and their involvement in the slaughter at the Red Wedding. She did not like the way he stared at her. He made a lewd remark about bitches and kennels, that made Theon's knuckles go white as he gripped the handle of his sword. Ramsay's pale face widened with a grin at Sansa's direction. 

"Show some respect," her elder brother growled from his throne. "Do not speak to my sister." Ramsay was the last alive of the men loyal to Bolton. Most of the men had been executed at the Dreadfort. Ramsay was kicked down to his knees. Sansa stared down at the disgusting man in the coldest manner she could muster. _I don't think he even knows the meaning of the word or has ever treated anyone with respect._ She exchanged a glance with her husband. Theon's eyes told her he thought the same and he held her hand protectively. Theon's tender action did not go unnoticed by Ramsay. 

"Tut, tut, Father promised me her or your other sister. Or that northern nobody Lord Baelish said he kept, Sansa's friend. Father told he has been grooming her for me." He nudged his chin at Sansa. Sansa shuddered and gasped, 

"Jeyne." Sansa felt ashamed that she hadn't thought of Jeyne in a long time.

"Do not speak of my wife again, Snow," warned Theon furiously. Ramsay smiled and laughed. 

"Oh, I would have let you watch, Greyjoy." Theon could barely keep himself in check. It was Sansa who pulled him back and Theon held her close. Robb and Theon exchanged a look before Robb rose from his throne. 

"That's enough," barked Robb as he unsheathed his sword. Theon cupped her stricken face with concern. 

"Oh, Theon," trembled Sansa. Everyone who knew Jeyne Poole were thoroughly upset and horrified by the words "grooming her for me". Sansa was shaking with tears as Theon led her out of the Great Hall.

 _Oh, Jeyne, I am so sorry._ Sansa's blue eyes welled up at the thought of Jeyne Poole alive and alone. _I thought she was dead._ Sansa felt terror and disgust by Ramsay Snow's implication of how Littlefinger had been treating Jeyne. _I almost was tricked by him too._ Theon slipped his hand in hers again and held it tightly. His jaw was tight with restrained emotions. She wondered if he remembered Jeyne Poole and how she fancied him. Or if he was also thinking about how close Sansa came to be taken by Baelish.

"Fuck Littlefinger, fuck Bolton and his bastard. Fuck them all," cursed Theon with disgust. 

_Did Jeyne know I had been rescued by Theon and wondered why no one cared to look for her?_

"After Father was killed, they took her away. I thought she had died like Septa Mordane and everyone else," she sobbed. "We could have saved her. She was in his brothels the whole time. Why didn't I think of the chance she was still alive?"

"You were trying to survive and escape yourself, love." A horrid thought hit her. If Robb had died at the Twins, and if she went on Baelish's ship instead of with Theon. _It could have been me or Jeyne forced to marry Lord Bolton's creepy bastard._

"My sister or I even her- forced to marry that? He is a monster." 

"You are safe, Sansa. You are safe with me." He kissed her tearstained cheek. Sansa nuzzled his shoulder as they hugged. The smell of him and his arms around soothed her. However, she could not shake her guilt at the revelation that Jeyne Poole had been- Sansa closed her eyes as she thought the horrific things Jeyne may have endured. 

"But Jeyne is not," cried Sansa.

"No, she isn't," agreed Theon grimly, "But we have no idea if Baelish took her somewhere else, since you left King's Landing." 

"So nothing? No one is going to look for her or try to bring her back to Winterfell." 

"Love, they know I got you out of King's Landing by now. I also had help getting you out of there. Margaery is a nice girl but I doubt her lady grandmother will be interested in helping to rescue Jeyne." Sansa knew the northern lords would feel pity for the daughter of a slain northern vassal but they would not go to war for Jeyne Poole. The Northern lords had not wanted Robb to trade the Kingslayer for a Stark daughter.

"It's not fair," murmured Sansa sadly.

Theon nodded, "There's some tiny mercy for Jeyne. She won't ever go near Ramsay Snow." Sansa pondered at the unfairness of the situation and the small relief that an awful person like Ramsay would be dead soon. 

"What did he mean by kennels?" Theon went grey and shook his head.

"Sansa, I don't wish to speak of it. If you heard the rumours about him and the Dreadfort then I can say that they are true and more horrifying as well." Sansa shivered and hugged Theon. They hugged for a long while.

"I wish to go to the godswood to pray for Jeyne, since I can't save her. I want to pray for my sister's safety as well and that she finds her way home soon. You can go back in for the execution. I'll be fine." Theon stared at the door and walked with her.

"I'd rather not look him or hear his voice." After a long pause, he said softly, "If I could I would save her, you know. If I had known she was still alive in King's Landing as well. I would have gotten you both out." Sansa smiled at him and kissed him gently.

"I know, Theon. You risked your life to save me."  

Theon and Sansa were quiet as they walked to the godswood. Sansa cried as she knelt before the great heart tree. Theon knelt beside her and grasped her hand in his. She prayed for Jeyne, for the Gods to give her courage and strength to escape her captors. For the Gods to show Jeyne mercy. For someone genuinely kind and brave to keep Jeyne away from Baelish and other awful captors. For Jeyne Poole to know that Sansa had not forgotten her. Sansa prayed for Baelish's death and prayed for a hero for Jeyne.


	6. harlaw

Theon stared back the castle that had been his home and prison for twelve or more years. He wished he could have found a way to stall them from making the journey to his rightful islands and his people. He had to deal with his uncles and his sister. Show them that he was still Ironborn and had not been softened by his time on land. Theon had the rightful claim as the last living son of Balon Greyjoy. _King_ Robb had married his sister to Theon, the heir of the Iron Islands not the _ward_ of Lord Eddard Stark. He was returning to Pyke at last.

With the Boltons and the Freys dealt with, Robb decided to answer the Night's Watch's warning and plea for aid rather than lead his host to the capital to make the Lannisters pay for their crimes. _I should ride north with Robb._ But that meant parting with Sansa, which was the deciding factor to just simply go take his seat of the Iron Islands.

"Is your lady mother there with your sister?" asked Sansa as they rode side by side. As much as Sansa was skittish around horses, it saved time to simply ride rather than travel by wheelhouse. Theon thought about his lady mother.

"She lives back at her brother's castle on Harlaw." Sansa looked surprised.

“Since your lord father died?” Theon shook his head.

“My lady mother stopped living on Pyke almost as long as I have lived at Winterfell.”

“Are we going to Harlaw first to visit your lady mother?” Theon hadn’t thought to go to Harlaw right away since business lay on the main island. Name day gifts and letters stopped arriving from Lady Alannys around the time he was four and ten. Theon figured she had stopped caring. Now, Theon wondered if she had become ill or if she did stop caring about him. 

“Yes, we are,” Theon decided.

* * *

 “Your mother, Lanny, is no longer how you remembered her, nephew,” warned Lord Rodrik Harlaw as they walked through Ten Towers to Lady Alannys’ chambers. Cries could be heard from the closed door. “Lanny, sister, your boy Theon has come home to see you. He’s brought his young lady wife to meet you as well.”

Rodrik opened the door. Sansa had been expecting a woman who bore resemblance to Theon and what the lady she envisioned based on what Theon described to her. Theon’s lady mother had long lifeless white hair that appeared to not have been cut for a few years. The strong woman Theon had known had become sickly and frail.

“Mother?” Sansa looked at Theon for his reaction to seeing her again in thirteen years. His face was pained. “It’s me, Theon, your son. Do you remember me?”

“Where’s my baby boy? Also, tell Maron and Rodrik to come here.” Sansa shivered as Lady Alannys looked past her son to her brother.

“Lanny, your baby boy is right here. Look.” He gently pulled up his sister’s chin to look up at her last living son. Lady Alannys gaped at Theon confused and with alarm.

“Are you sure? He looks different,” she said finally with nervous disbelief. “Theon’s tenth nameday is coming. I’ll send him something. Balon says what’s the point. I shall, I will. He is my boy, my last boy.” Her voice grew higher and angry then she stared at the wall and whispered softly, “It’s too quiet in Pyke, brother. I want to stay here. I need to go back to Harlaw. Balon-” _She’s gone mad with grief._

“I got your letters and the gifts, Mother,” Theon tried again. Sansa saw Theon struggle to hide his emotions. 

“Oh,” answered Alannys flatly. “You are a handsome young man.” _She doesn’t recognize Theon._ Sansa slipped her hand in his and gave it a comforting squeeze. He was upset and disappointed. 

“I am sorry, Uncle Rodrik. We shouldn’t have come.” Theon turned away. He gently tugged Sansa away. Sansa looked back at Lady Alannys as they were half way down the corridor. 

“Theon, wait," begged Sansa. Theon shook his head. 

"We are going to Pyke, Sansa. I don't want to stay here," insisted Theon with a gulp. "I can't."  

 _She’s been waiting for you to come home for years._ Theon’s lady mother gazed at Theon properly as if she was properly seeing him at last.

“You look like  _him,_ but you have my chin unlike your sister. My youngest is the tallest. Come here,” called out Lady Alannys. Theon glanced at Sansa who gave him a look of encouragement before he walked slowly to his lady mother. “You came home _alive._ ” She reached out to embrace him. 

“I don’t care if your father wants to be king or to bring back the glory days of the Iron Islands. I won’t let them stags and wolves take you away again,” she whispered in Theon’s ear frantically with tears in her eyes as he returned the embrace. Sansa smiled happy for Theon that his lady mother did remember him. She stood in the doorway glancing around the dreary chamber. She felt awkward at Alannys Harlaw’s words about her lord father and Robert Baratheon. Dull, dark eyes peered over Theon’s shoulder at her. “Who’s she?”

“I’m-“ Theon pulled away from his mother and took Sansa’s hand. 

“Mother, this is my lady wife. Sansa Stark. She’s my rock wife.” Sansa steeled herself to seen as only the daughter of Theon’s captor or as just a soft greenlander girl.

“I remember Stark after that Baratheon decided to take my last son as a hostage for my husband’s rebellion. Cold man, he was.” Her voice faded away and her eyes seemed to be reliving that horrible day. Sansa automatically wanted to defend her beloved lord father but she reined in her family loyalty. 

“Theon is my elder brother’s greatest friend and I love your son. He _stole_ me from the Great Keep in King’s Landing.” The Ironborn seemed to hold stock by things paid with the iron price. “Neither Baratheon or my late lord father ordered our marriage.” _They were long dead._ Sansa looked down, forcing herself to not be sad about her late father at this moment. Sansa and Theon’s future children would only have this shell of Alannys Harlaw as a living grandparent. She would be happy for Theon. The majority of her childhood had been perfect, whilst his had been disrupted and displaced.  

“King's Landing, eh? You didn’t forget our ways,” Alannys smiled weakly. She held Theon’s other hand in hers. It must be strange to see her youngest at last and to also find out he was married. “Was she the pretty one?”

“Aye,” confirmed Theon with a look over his shoulder at Sansa.  

* * *

 

Theon almost died of embarrassment, when his lady mother walked in on him in the middle of having what he called his second wedding night with Sansa. He would have laughed it off if he got caught having sex with a maid by Lord Eddard or Lady Catelyn. But Mother still thought he was nine years old, despite attending their wedding before the Drowned God earlier that day.

“Is Maron tormenting you again, little one?” Sansa gasped loudly. She quickly covered her breasts with her hands and her long saltwater smelling red hair as Mother walked in. _No, that wasn't what you were hearing._ Never had a mood had been killed so fast. 

“No, Mother,” Theon groaned as he cursed himself for not locking the door. “Maron and Rodrik haven’t tormented me in a long time. I’m fine.”

“Good, they are finally listening to me.” Alannys nodded and fiddled with her white braid.

“Well, um goodnight, Mother.” Theon smiled awkwardly, hoping his lady mother would leave so he try to resume his  

“Would you like me to sing to you or tell you a story before bed?” Theon laughed incredulously.  _Whilst I am naked on top of my equally naked wife?_   Sansa’s face was pink. Theon thought of the nights alone at Winterfell, when he had wished for it. Watching Lady Catelyn bidding her children goodnight.  _I am a grown man now. We lost those moments._ Theon believed he didn’t have to go backwards and pretend to be a little boy to have a relationship with Mother. It hurt too much to think about what he had lost. However, Sansa had quietly argued with him that Mother’s frail state and madness had taken toll on her mind and she was right of course.

_“She might only ever remember you as a little boy.”_

“Now is not a good time, Mother.” He couldn't look his mother in the eye as he said those words.

“No, you can sing or tell us a story, Lady Alannys,” exclaimed Sansa tucking a blanket over her after Sansa unceremoniously moved Theon off her. Theon spluttered wordlessly and pulled another blanket to cover his nakedness. He stared at Sansa with question _now?_ Sansa smiled at his lady mother kindly.

“I am comfy and tucked in. Are you settled, Theon?” enquired Sansa with enthusiasm. Her flushed pale skin was slowly returning to normal.

“Yes,” he sighed as he leaned back on his pillow. Theon held Sansa’s wrist as Mother sat down at the end of the bed and began her story. Theon stared at opposite wall as Mother regaled them a favoured story of his early childhood. 

"She's telling a story to her last son and her first grandchild," Sansa whispered with a watery smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was originally going to have Alannys not remember Theon at all. If she had or ever does see Theon again in canon I don't think her "madness" would be instantly cured by a simple reunion. 
> 
> leave a comment! :)


	7. homecoming

Sansa sat staring at the grey seawater on their short journey to Pyke from Harlaw. The rhythmic sound of the water cause her to reflect on her time with Theon shortly after they sailed from King’s Landing. She remembered how she found out after a few days on the ship that Robb had promised her hand in marriage to Theon. Sansa remembered how her reaction was a mixed one.  Once, she would have swooned at the romance of Theon rescuing her, his lady bride to be from terrible monsters. Sansa might have once smiled and giggled that it was just like a song if someone told her that was her future. If someone had just stripped away all the horrid memories of her captivity at King’s Landing, ignored or diminished her grief and trauma from the unjust death of her beloved lord father. Sansa's lonely, friendless time as she prayed for Robb to save her. The disappearance of her younger sister and the deaths of everyone she knew. Sansa recalled returning to her bed and stiffening at sight of it. She had felt stifled and confined in their fairly spacious cabin. Sansa had looked at Theon and wondered to herself, 

 _Would you have come for me if my name and my body weren’t a prize to be had?_  

_Sansa had trusted Theon. She felt slightly betrayed, when Old Tom had unknowingly told of her betrothal to her 'rescuer'. Theon glared at her darkly when Sansa spurned his compliments._

_"Save your breath, Theon. You got your prize there's no point in pretending you actually care."_

_"Rather me than the Lannisters or Littlefinger, love. Who else was going to get you out of there, love?" Would he ever stop calling her love? Robb, she wanted to scream. Robb who she prayed for. Robb, her handsome brother storming King's Landing to save her and give her Joffrey's head._ _Robb had instead sent someone else to her aid._

_"Sandor Clegane offered, before the battle," remembered Sansa. Her face was haughty and her blue eyes narrowed at his false endearment. Theon shook his head and laughed as if the world was a joke. He was such an annoying person._

_"The Hound? Well then, why are you with me and not with him?" Sansa did not give him the satisfaction of explaining the story. She walked to the other side of the ship, wondering if she would have made it to her mother and Robb already if she had gone with Clegane._

_"Think what you want about me and my intentions, Sansa," snapped Theon tersely. "I could abandon you on some beach and leave you to find your Hound or find your own way back home if I wished."_

_"Why don't you?" she retorted fiercely. She was at his mercy just like she had been at the Lannisters'. Theon gave her a sidelong glance before staring down at the dark blue water._

_"I won't for the same reason why I pushed that brute Myron over. Or are you vastly disappointed that you are to be my bride that being brutalized and drowned is much preferable? Tell me, Sansa." She looked over the edge at the water. Had she suddenly misconstrued every word and action of Theon's?_

_"Theon," said Sansa with regret to his retreating form. She grabbed his hand allowing him to touch her. After everything she's been through, Sansa still wanted things to be pretty. "I would have much preferred a proposal to be your bonny lady bride." What a callow pair they were._

_"Haven't any flowers or lemon_ _cakes." His hands were on her waist like they had been after the bloodied Myron fell into the sea._

_"Improvisation is allowed." Theon's lips quirked into a smile._

* * *

Theon kissed the crown of her hair. Sansa smiled up at him and turned to hug him.

"We're almost there. Are you cold?” he asked as he bent his head to kiss her. It was windy, but she was used to far colder weather back in the North. His hand went to her flat stomach. She couldn't be more than a moon or two along thus they kept Sansa's pregnancy a secret for now. Sansa recalled his surprised face and the slow happy grin, when her announcement finally registered with Lady Alanny's faraway voice narrating an unfamiliar story told to children of the Iron Isles. 

“I’m fine, Theon.” She stared at Pyke, her new home.The castle was series of towers comprised of stone, connected by black-grey stone or swaying rope bridges. It was a marvel that it was standing with how eroded the island’s cliff was by the sea. Gulls flew around the island. "You are home." Theon smile tightened as he gazed at the castle he had been born in and taken from. 

"I suppose," he murmured with a tone of uncertainty. 

“Is your sister coming to greet you at the port?”

“No idea,” replied Theon as he wrapped his arms around her. Sansa smiled at his hand resting on her flat stomach. Theon’s Uncle Aeron, also called Damphair as Sansa came to learn, looked at them.

He warned Theon, “Don’t expect my brother to be bringing the pageantry at your arrival, my lord nephew.”

“I should have no expectations of my own kin, my subjects?” muttered Theon with slight humor. His eyes showed his annoyance. However, the Lord of Lordsport, Sawane Botley, welcomed the return of Lord of the Iron Isles and his new lady wife as they made port. Theon vaulted over the edge of their boat first in a gallant manner to make sure Sansa's dress and feet would not get wet. He lifted her by the waist and kissed her before setting her on the drier land. 

"Your boots, Theon," gasped Sansa. Theon gave a shrug in response and offered his arm.  

 A small crowd of Lord Botley's family and the common folk crowded around to see their new Lord Greyjoy and his young lady wife. Theon smiled and was his charismatic self to the curious crowd. Sansa smiled and spoke to Lord Botley’s lady wife who had rougher manners than the ladies she had met in the South. Sansa tried her best to endear herself to her new people. An older man named Dagmer Cleftjaw had come from the castle to greet Theon personally. Sansa watched Theon relax at the sight of someone familiar. She wondered curiously how Cleftjaw received the ugly scar on his face.

“My lord,” bowed Cleftjaw. “My lady.” All ten of his calloused fingers had rings of gold, iron, and silver. Some had garnets, and sapphires. One or two had a darker stone that Sansa did not recognize by glance.

“Uncle,” smiled Theon. Sansa raised an eyebrow in questioning. Cleftjaw gruffly said something to Theon to which Theon responded,

“I haven’t forgotten all you have taught me.”

“Good. I could have been raiding instead of being the master at arms if my time has been wasted,” nodded Cleftjaw with a toothy smile. A young woman of about five and twenty had brought horses from the castle for them. Sansa was about to mount a horse, when Theon touched her arm. 

“Ride with me, dearheart.” Theon led his horse to her. He helped up her on the horse, before getting on himself. “They seem to like you.” Sansa smiled softly with hope that the Ironborn would like her. He wrapped one arm around her with the other holding the reins. Sansa glanced at the woman who was staring at them, particularly Theon, as they rode past the woman. The woman flirted with Theon as she spoke to him. Sansa bit her lip and kept a mask of calm composure.

“You visited Ten Towers, my lord?” asked the impetuous shorthaired woman.

“Aye, to see my lady mother.” The woman nodded solemnly but cracked a smile and continued her crass manner of speech. Sansa frowned at the woman. Where all the Ironborn women this unladylike and bold enough to flirt with her husband right in front of her? When they made it to the castle of Pyke. Sansa looked around at the three towers. The guards of the gatehouse called out greetings to Theon and _Asha._ Theon spun his head around and glared at the brown haired woman. 

“Hello, little brother,” grinned the woman. Sansa’s eyes widened as she recognized the similar hair colour and eyes. She felt slightly mortified but more relieved that the woman turned out to be Theon's sister. Sansa also wondered why would Asha flirt with Theon to begin with? Sansa would never flirt with her brothers. Not even her half brother Jon. 

“What?” cried Theon in shock, his handsome face scrunched with disbelief. “Why didn’t either of you two say anything?” Dagmer Cleftjaw and Aeron Greyjoy shrugged, not looking at all sheepish.

“Not my fault you can’t recognize your own sister after so many years,” said Damphair.

“I remember Asha being ugly,” protested Theon as he helped Sansa off the horse. Asha guffawed,

“I remember things that I’m sure you don’t want your pretty lady wife to know.” Theon scowled at his only sister, whilst he clasped hands with a curious Sansa.

“Welcome, good-sister to Pyke.” Sansa smiled graciously.

“Thank you, Lady Asha.” Asha took Sansa’s free hand in her larger, tan, and calloused hand, leading her to the- “This is the Great Keep.” 

* * *

Theon sat on the Seastone Chair near the end of all the festivities. It was at a late hour, yet the Ironborn lords were still going strong in their merrymaking. More like debauchery at this point. He rested his chin on his fist as he mulled over the words of Uncle Victarion. 

_“Balon died and suddenly Euron’s ship was seen not long after.”_

_“Purely coincidental, uncle,” Theon laughed off unworriedly with a shrug._

_“Nothing is coincidental or accidental, when it comes to Euron, nephew," rebuked Victarian grimly. Theon saw the old anger bubble in Victarion's plain countenance. Theon remembered the tale of the fate of Victarion's salt wife. This time he was filled with sick dread as Theon clenched his fists and followed_ _Victarion's eyes flickered to Sansa who was dancing with a ten year old son of one of the lords. "My own brother. He won't respect you or fear you. You may be Balon's last son but you aren't Balon." Theon casted his uncle a dirty glare._

_He won't touch her or dare challenge Theon's rights._

_“Enough talk about Euron, uncle,” interrupted Asha. She raised her tankard. “A toast to Theon's return!” He smiled a smile that didn't reach his eyes and lifted his cup, but the taste of ale was off._

He was bleary eyed from heavily drinking his cups. Theon's gaze followed Sansa's movements. He had been reminded by how uncouth the Ironborn can be. Theon was ready to stab anyone who dared "mistaken" Sansa for a serving wench. The Ironborn didn't really care that he had returned at last. It was no way similar to the welcoming return Sansa received when they arrived at Winterfell. He wondered if they were looking forward to a bloody battle between his sister and uncles for Theon's rightful throne instead. Or a kingsmoot. His sister welcomed him and Sansa in her own way. His uncles Victarion and Damphair behaved as if Theon had been away from Pyke for a day, not a little more than a decade.

He wanted to shout at them all that he was their lord,  _the_ lord. The words of Lord Stark kept him from shouting aloud. 

_I'm Theon Greyjoy, the Lord of the Iron Isles, the last son of Balon. Husband of Princess Sansa Stark. I am going to be a father._

“My lord, is everything alright?” Sansa stood before him placing her hands on his shoulders. She had been dazzling and charming all day. Sansa was the perfect lady. She had a gift of making his- now their hardened subjects grudgingly like her. Sansa's smile didn't faltered but her light auburn brows knitted with concern.

“Aye, everything is perfectly fine, love.” Thoughts of Euron and the death of his lord father were far away. His need to keep Sansa close and within sight hadn't lessened. Theon took Sansa’s hand in his and kissed it. He had a desire to slip his hand under her rich dark blue velvet skirts.  _One night, we'll come here and make love on this chair._

"We should retire, my lord," suggested Sansa as she leant down for a kiss.

"You've read my mind, my lady," he said as he rose from the Seastone Chair. By memory, he took them to the Sea Tower. Sansa tensed as they walked across the swinging bridges to get to the round tower. Theon walked past his childhood chamber, wondering if it still looked the same. If the pillow and blankets of wool and fur smelt the same as he remembered them to. His rumination was interrupted by Sansa stroking his hair as if he were a fluffy dog. Theon was about to laugh and mention it but he quickly remembered Lady was dead. He patted her rump gently instead and laughed. 

"Is my hair very unkempt, love?" He certainly hoped it wasn't.

"No, I just like your hair shorn this way." A part of him wanted to ask what was wrong with his hair before. 

"Do you?" He look down at her with a smile. Sansa nearly tripped up the step. "Watch your step, Sansa," cautioned Theon was holding on to her as he led her up the stairs to the top of the tower, where their chambers were. The chamber was well prepared for him and Sansa. The furnishings exceeded the rank of a lord to some. The hangings of the Greyjoy sigil above the bed made him burst with Ironborn pride, but room itself felt a bit too spartan for his likening. Theon enjoyed nice things and was curating in his head, sumptuous furniture and bed covering. As he removed his cloak, he thought about clothing for himself. Silk shirts and velvet doublets. Theon glanced at Sansa who was being ushered by a maid to the antechamber. He gulped as he thought about what he thought Sansa _needed_ sartorically. _Lots of Myrish lace small clothes._ Fine gowns to accommodate their growing child. He removed his doublet and his black jerkin before sitting on his bed.  _Formerly, Father's._ Theon frowned not wanting to think of his lord father and his constant wondering if Balon would be grudgingly proud of Theon now. 

_He's dead. I won't earn or receive any fatherly pride from him._

Theon glumly pondered Mallister's report of Balon's indifference. _It couldn't be true, I was his last son._  Yet he felt it to be true.

"Theon?" called Sansa. Theon turned around as Sansa entered their chamber in an ivory white nightgown and a robe. Her hair was still loose and not plaited as she normally did for bed. Theon smiled at her. _Our babies will be beautiful with our looks._ He was excited and thrilled at the news. Theon was hungry and desperate to have a family, something he never truly had. Theon was a brother to a Stark and the husband of another Stark.

He knew nothing about being a father. If he couldn't garner the respect he wanted and expected from his uncles. How would his own child love and respect him, their lord father? Would they sneer at him or look at him severely as Ned Stark had done many of times? Theon wanted his sons and daughters to love him like Ned Stark's children loved him. Sansa wrapped her arms around him. Sansa would be a natural mother and a great lady like Lady Catelyn. 

_"... you aren't Balon." Neither I am like Lord Stark or any Stark. Everyone was quick to point that out. Who is Theon?_

"Your first night back at Pyke. How shall we celebrate, Lord Greyjoy?" He frowned as he jolted from his thoughts and at the loss of warmth against his chest as she withdrew from his arms.  Her hands tugged at the laces of his britches. 

"Our first night in our chamber in our castle," Theon amended as he kissed her stomach then pulled her in for a proper kiss. "What do you suggest, Lady Greyjoy?" 

"Take me to sea again," breathed Sansa. Theon grinned wolfishly, though he honestly had no recollection of saying those words, when they were at Ten Towers. He had slurred his usual bit about her being a siren and how he was a kraken. 

_Together, we shall ride the sea._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> leave a comment! :)


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